Incredible Machine
by The Original Frizzi
Summary: Q'ara Tyieri is in for the shock of a lifetime when she finds herself in Thedas, a world unlike her own, a world of magic, war, and darkspawn. Yes, it's one of 'those', but it's nothing like the norm, promise! Read further and find out!
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Woo, new story! This is purely a work in progress, and I'll do my bestest to update this and The Choices We Make at the same time. I have done this before, trust me, so it should be like riding a bike... right? *nervous chuckles*_

_Anyways! I have two extra specially made cyber cakes to present to my two main muses: one to Jaden Anderson, who helped me shape the world Q'ara lives in and let me bounce some ideas off of her, for which I'm really grateful! And the other to Eve Hawk, for being my other idea-bouncer-offer (if that makes sense at all), and proofreading my new language and thinking it was absolutely kick-ass, even without reading the translations... that was relieving news to hear! xD Enjoy your cakes, ladies, for they're well-deserved!_

_Pronunciations: Q'ara Tyieri (KEH-rah tee-EH-ree); Iteco Tyieri (ee-TEH-koh tee-EH-ree); Avaria (ah-VAH-ree-ah)_

_Bioware owns Dragon Age; I own Terra XII and any and all occupants. xD_

* * *

The streets of Steel Town were silent. Granted, the late hour could contribute to the silence, but she knew with every fiber of her being that there would at least be someone awake and working on any random flight of fancy, or last second deadlines. The lack of noise pressed down on her ears, as if making her try to crumble under the weight of it.

Q'ara Tyieri, fellow resident of the district known by the locals as Steel Town, pulled the hood up to her overcoat and simply walked faster. It was hardly safe to travel alone nowadays, especially for people like her. Contrary to the pitch given to the residents of the homeland of her however-many-great grandparents, the revolutionary land of the future had its downside.

Terra XII, one of the many newest planets discovered by long dead scientists in a space age, when the only thing that could be believed was that there was a vast amount of undiscovered universe around them, could be comparable to the Earth she had learned of in the history classes in school... if only up to a certain point. From the sounds of it, it was borderline barbaric with so many social stigmas, environmental crises, and overall tension in the world's population. However, since people tended to be people and aspire in great lengths, there was tension in the population of the newly discovered world as well. Q'ara liked to think that the populated parts of her home planet had a certain flair with dealing with things, though.

The life of a resident in Steel City was simple, uncomplicated. When all one cared for was manipulating metal and ore into genuine creations, whether practical or artistic, it could fill ones focus, be ones drive, and become ones contented lifetime of the wonderful material. The same way applied to those that lived on the farms, or in the avid desert areas. They did what they did and were content with it, resolving problems in their own inner circles with people that could easily relate to the problem and know best how to solve it.

There were others in the world, like herself for example, that could take their lifestyle a step further than the rest. Those others could take the matter around them, truly understand it for what it is, and manipulate it to their own whims. They also lived accordingly to said manipulations, at least in the norm. Those that could control the water either gathered around lakes, streams, or under the surface of larger bodies of water; those that gravitated to the earth carved their homes into the earth itself, from tunneling into small hills to carving breathtaking structures into mountains; fire manipulators mainly stuck to the deserts, living in simple yet intricate mudbrick houses that had open roofs for any burst of fire to escape from; the ones that took to the air most often lived in amazingly tall skyscrapers, not just restricted to one area like the rest and therefore making them mainly messengers or transporters... when they managed to stop thrill-seeking. The rest of the planet had stretches of unexplored land, home to unknown dangers that would make appearances brief enough to enrich stories told to misbehaving children to put them back in line.

Q'ara, on the other hand, was part of the gifted metal manipulators, therefore making her living in Steel City. The tall buildings around her, even now, were singing to her senses in their special ways, nearly drowning out her own thoughts and troubles. She ducked in between the iron wrought gates, her hands lingering against the latch as it was pulled closed. It sang to her, hummed under her skin, so tempting as it clanged together. Sadly, she was running a bit late as it was, and there was always more metal to be had. Pulling away from it, she started up the stairs to her home, a tall apartment building owned solely by herself and her father.

The house key greeted her like an old friend as it was pushed into the lock, admitting her into the entry floor, used mainly for socializing. A passing maid stopped as she saw Q'ara enter. "Good evening, my lady," she greeted softly, curtsying.

"Not yet," she murmured as the door closed behind her. Louder, she asked, "Where is my father?"

"In the Green Room, my lady."

_Of course, why did I expect any different..._ she thought to herself, dismissing the maid with a curt nod as she started up the stairs. The room in reference was once her mother's, full of plants that let her mother, an earth manipulator, feel more at home in a city of steel. Q'ara, personally, thought it more of a barbaric practice, nothing like the sharp refineries that could be gifted from working with metal (which she did know well enough to be closer to earth than the rest of the elements). Since her passing when Q'ara was only three, her father had often spent his time in there, caring for the plants that were left behind. A manipulator he was not, but a man lost in the kind of love that was damn near eternal...

She shook her head at the thought. Maybe it was just due to her young age, but while his pining for a lost love could be deemed as romantic, having it suck up so much of one's time seemed like a waste. She banished such thoughts from visually darkening her mood as she opened the glass doors, admitting her to an abundance of foliage.

Her father, Iteco, looked up from one of the numerous plants he was tending to see who was entering, relaxing with relief as he saw his daughter. "You're late," he kindly chastised her.

Q'ara smirked, closing the door behind her. "Sorry, the appointment took a bit longer than I thought it would."

Setting down his watering can, he looked on with interest. "Another one, huh... Any chance of showing me?"

"You know, your interest in my growing number of piercings is a tad bit disturbing," she joked with him, slanting a sideways playful glare as she slipped out of her coat, the decorative metal pieces and inlays clinked together as she draped it over her arm.

"And from a father to a daughter, I do still have a say on what's going too far." He folded his arms as he waited, a smile beginning to quirk the edges of his mouth.

"Alright, I give," she acquiesced, pushing her thick blond hair back behind her left ear. A new appearance of silver tracing around the shell could be spotted, with the actual piercing itself being closer to the top of the design. Three fancier scrollwork designs were interspersed into the ear wrap, one above and two below the actual post.(*) As he stepped forward for a closer look, she tilted her head into the light, the metal gleaming from it. "Silver for your thoughts?"

Iteco shook his head, before holding her head in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That you'll always be my darling daughter... and try to schedule these during the day, if you're going to keep pursuing this lifestyle."

As if she could really help herself there; like her mom enjoyed surrounding herself with plants, Q'ara enjoyed having as much metal in her possession as possible. Multiple piercings, random metal-made knick knacks, numerous unfinished projects that she grew bored of, even where they lived... though it didn't matter to her father. He was simply smart enough to know where to take her raw talent and ambition, marketing certain creations just so to benefit them.

Her right arm was such a one. Made of titanium, it was lightweight and could function normally, yet be strong and durable enough in ratio to not hinder working. It was the first of its kind, and- Q'ara most sincerely hoped- would be successful enough to become part of a fashion niche for the upper classed citizens. Her specific prototype was equipped as a future model for soldiers and explorers, however, at her father's suggestion and of wanting to think far enough ahead to explore uncharted lands... and, of course, to protect what was most precious to him.

Still, she had to scoff at her father's hidden warnings over her safety. "C'mon, dad. If everyone continues jumping at shadows and saying that the sky's falling- like they have for a few decades now, might I add- we'll soon be the first ones to jump ship and start searching for a new planet to live on."

"There are very real dangers out there," Iteco insisted, turning back around to the plants. "To go on these flights of fancy continually doesn't exactly lessen your chances of getting hurt."

"And between my bionic arm and the guards you insist on keeping on my tail the times I do go out during the day, I didn't really have any chances to begin with."

Silence fell between the duo, neither backing down from their stance, but not wanting to argue any further. It was more of a mutual understanding of this fact, not of what they felt about the issue.

He was the first to break the quiet. "There's still some dinner on the table."

She half shrugged. "I'm not really that hungry... I'm just going to go to my room for the night." It was a lie, but also a handy excuse to get away.

"Fair enough," her father replied. Q'ara turned and started back out of the room, prompting him to speak once more. "I love you, Q'ara."

"You too," she replied over her shoulder, opening the greenhouse door and exiting. The brisk walk to her room was filled with unvented thoughts about how her father still felt the need to coddle her like a child. She may still be a technical child in the eyes of their society, but if one was capable of making their own decisions, then more power to them!

The door to her room was firmly pushed shut behind her, not breaking stride as she tossed her coat onto her bed. The closet was her first destination, the double doors opened with a huff of breath. Really, if she had freakin' weapons installed in her arm, why did she even need guards in the first place? The blades were easy to release and retract, she always kept up on maintenance, and she never really had use for them before, so there essentially was nothing to be afraid of!

Clothes were tossed onto her bed as she vented her frustration, then quickly slipped on. She was running late, after all. Dark colored thigh highs were clipped into place with a garter, with a revealing one piece (cut down to where legs met torso and showing enough chest to give even the most chaste man pause) going on over that. At the top of her garter, fabric belts with metal inlays were strapped into place. A new overcoat was tossed on over that, lighter in bulk without the same metal inserts, but with a metal shoulder cuff sewn in on her left. The right sleeve was, understandably, nonexistent, as her bulkier-than-normal arm couldn't fit into sleeves properly._ An arm that could be a great stand in as protection,_ she couldn't help but snark to herself.(**)

As she started trying to lace together to corseted detail in the front, the feeling of someone standing right in the doorway made her stop and turn. The door was still closed tightly from her earlier entrance, making her wonder. Was her father seriously going to post guards outside her door? Softly, she crept her way over and opened it as softly as she could... to only reveal an empty hallway on either side. Her brows furrowed in thought, ducking back in and quietly closing the door. Was she just imagining things?

A thump on the balcony outside of her bedroom made her smile. Seems she wasn't as late as she thought... Smiling now, Q'ara crossed her room to the curtained French doors and opened them to reveal her friend, Avaria... in a head-to-toe leather get up. She arched her brow at the sight. "Leather? Really?"

"What?" Avaria asked, smirking and doing a little twirl. "I found it in my mom's closet and kept it as a guilty pleasure. Sexy, huh?"

"And also outdated," Q'ara couldn't help but comment. "I mean, are those really tassels on your arm pieces?"

"You should see them go when I'm flying. That's all I have to say," Avaria insisted, stepping into Q'ara's room. It may have been a one piece suit, but it cut close to the air manipulator's curves, with the only metal on the outfit being the crotch to chest zipper holding it in place. Q'ara couldn't help but see exactly _where_ the zipper stopped, cluing her in to what kind of mischief her friend was going to get in tonight. Her hastily put together updo was messy with the force of the wind blow, only kept out of her face by her trademark goggles. How Avaria always managed to look her best with mussed hair was something Q'ara would never understand...(***)

With her friend's help, Q'ara was laced into her jacket, and into her heeled saddle shoes, as Q'ara wrapped her tool pouch on the right side of her waist (one never knew when a tune up was needed her arm). Avaria examined Q'ara's new piercing as the strap of her last shoe was smoothed into place, dropping the group of hair back into place as Q'ara looked up. "Don't get me wrong, it's cute and all," Avaria assured Q'ara. "But just the one?" As Q'ara stuck her tongue out, Avaria laughed and added, "Thinking of a bolt there next?"

"Thank you, but no. I like my teeth too much."

"Never thought I'd see the day that you would just get one measly little thing, though..."

Q'ara shook her head, standing. "Get me drunk enough tonight and I'll show you the rest of them." A Cheshire cat grin spread as she started making her way over to the balcony.

Avaria gaped, standing herself and quickly following Q'ara. "West winds, Q'ara, you did not!"

Turning to silence Avaria, Q'ara admonished, "If we get caught before we get out, you'll never see them for yourself, will you?"

Avaria grinned, readying her flight chute. "So eager to leave, are we?"

"You have no idea..."

"Then you know the drill: grab your closest air manipulator friend and hang on, because it might be bumpy!" Q'ara did so, grabbing her normal hand as tight as she dared behind Avaria's back. She looked down to their shoes as she could just barely make out the small cyclone of wind starting to gather... It suddenly strengthened, rapidly pulling them upwards and bringing a surprised squeal from Q'ara. The force of it closed the French doors behind them with a slight tremble of glass, and just like that, she was gone.

o0o0o

In a different part of Steel Town, a tougher set of leather boots stepped in through the open door of one of the many part-time, work-out-of-their-home piercing artists, leading in a trio of identically clad people. They strode forward to a man who was sitting in the middle of the room, cross legged and deep in meditation. The meditating man was disturbed by a nudge to his knee, his eyes flying open. He craned his head back to look up, not looking the newcomer in the eyes, but at the clasp at his neck that glinted in the dim lighting of the room.

"Waar an g'aarl ras'ti?"(1) the newcomer spoke, the hiss customary to their language behind his words.

The meditator swallowed thickly before replying. "G'se paa'swe an daur uss..."(2)

Eyes narrowed, the newcomer leaned in closely, his voice shifting to more hiss than voice. "T'kuep na h'aar ssaek."(3) Satisfied with seeing the man tremble before closing his eyes once more, he straigthened and turned back. A couple of steps were taken before a choked strangle fell on his ears, drawing his attention to the left. A man who most likely was the owner of the house was laying sprawled in the doorway in between rooms, his face well bruised and bloody. The rest of his body wasn't faring any better, as evidenced by the blood staining his clothing. Any and all piercings were forcibly ripped from the man's body, as a start of the 'discreet' questioning his previous activities. The bloodied man shivered as he looked back at the unknown man. "P-p-please..." he managed to say, blood bubbling up from his lips.

The leader, in turn, looked around at the decor of the man's house. As could be expected of someone in the slums of Steel Town, scraps of varying sizes of metal were adorned on the walls... he supposed it was decoration. One said decoration was pulled off the wall, gently gliding by and suspending itself over the bleeding man. It was a rectangle shaped piece, one that was compressed in on the sides sharply to become little more than a pointed stick, pointed straight down at the man's chest.

"T'saaw'rr aame saeul-ta'rustii, sa'maal,"(4) the leader casually said, watching the man closely for his reaction.

The fallen man's arm started to raise up to said stretch of metal; the leader, guessing what would happen, slammed the point through the raising arm, pinning it to the floor. As the man shrieked in pain, the leader shouted over the cries. "T'saaw'rr aame saeul-ta'rustii, un t'ekssis!(4)"

"Damn you to the depths of the black magic!" the man shouted, unsure of what his torturers wanted, but not willing to give him an inch of wiggle room.

The leader growled openly, twisting the other pointed end of the stick to stab the man through his neck, ending his life. A long-suffering sigh spilled from his lips; so much trouble for one person... Addressing his followers, he said, "T'amaak ans gléne. Ch't'na gaare faaer daur an sa'maal."(5)

As one, the three men fell to one knee, touching two fingers to their foreheads, mouths, and hearts. "E'ta'rustii mé Ch'ruul!"(6) they cried, before doing as they were told.

The leader assumed a nonchalant stance in the doorway, his back to the soldiers accompanying him. The one assigned the meditating role continued to force himself to take deep breaths, because losing focus now meant much more than that. Redoubling his focus, his thumb rubbed over the half-smeared signature at the bottom of a slip of paper.

The signature once clearly read Q'ara Tyieri.

* * *

(*) pyramidcollection. com/ itemdy00. asp?ID=1, 623&GEN1= Earrings+% 26+Earwraps&T 1=J69809 &dispRow=26 9&src code=

(**) imdb. com/ media/ rm617512960/ tt0978764

(***) imdb. com/ media/ rm3905781760/ tt0978764

(1) _Where is the girl (of metal)?_

(2) _She travels through the air._

(3) _Keep searching for her._

(4) _Swear fealty to me, lower one/and live._

(5) _Clean this mess. We don't want to spread fear through the lower ones._

(6) _I obey my Master!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Woo, chapter 2! Not much to say here, so I'll stop yammering and get right to it-_

_Oh, wait, I do want to say something! Note how the main characters I set down in the synopsis changed... that's a little clue as to which direction this'll be heading in. xD_

_Dragon Age is to Bioware as cheese is to Alistair._

* * *

The two girls, oblivious to the happenings back in Steel City, stumbled onto the landing platform, eventually coming to a stop in a tangled mess of arms and legs. Both giggled while catching their breath back from excitement and adrenaline. Q'ara had her doubts of flying at first, but now that she had the hang of it, it seemed she couldn't get enough! As long as she only flew with Avaria, though, she could trust that specific air elemental.

"Really, girls?" a man stated more than asked as he stood to the side of the landing area, clipboard in hand. "The two of you are killing me right now."

"What can we say?" Avaria replied, wiggling her ass in the air for emphasis of her next statement. "We like making entrances!"

Q'ara laughed, starting to detangle herself from Avaria. "Okay, in his defense... I think that's how it would apply... that last thermal pocket could have been avoided."

"Pfffftt, where's the fun in that?" Avaria scoffed, standing and brushing off her outfit. She soon helped Q'ara back onto her feet before leading the duo to the man holding the clipboard. "It's not like you're wearing a skirt the whole world can see up."

"Knowing you, you probably would have used that instead of your chute to fly us over if that was the case," Q'ara replied, checking her arm for any dents or debris.

"Can you blame me? Have you _seen_ your legs lately?"

As Q'ara snorted, clipboard-man looked the both of them over. "Well, well," he remarked, settling his eyes on Q'ara and her multitude of visible piercings. Considering her age and her love of the element, the number she had on her body could be called a tame amount. Then again, she had her arm to make up the difference, so there was no real need to go crazy. "Here I thought that I'd never see a metal-head up in the clouds." As Q'ara smiled at him, he added, "You'll need an invite."

"She's my plus one," Avaria said, wrapping her left arm around Q'ara's waist and holding her right out to him. He set to work rolling up her sleeve, revealing a tattooed barcode on the inside of her arm.

"What the black magic is that?" Q'ara remarked, her brows furrowing as she spotted the barcode.

"The condensed version of my invite," she explained as the barcode was scanned. "They came with all the invitations sent out, and are purely temporary, trust me."

As the scanner's light beeped green and the two girls were admitted to the party, Q'ara couldn't help but sigh in relief. "Here I was afraid you'd start going to the 'dirt side'."

What Q'ara was referring to was a common earth manipulator characteristic: where metal manipulators took pride in piercings, earth manipulators did in their tattoos. Avaria was the epitome of air manipulators with mussed hair, wind-blocking goggles on her head, and a wardrobe that screamed aerodynamics.

The air manipulator in question threw her head back and laughed. "Me, get marked? No one could pay me enough, trust me!"

They stepped down the stairs to the entrance of the party, the music getting progressively louder the more they neared it. Stepping into the party was like stepping into a different world altogether. Having been inside of Avaria's apartment, Q'ara knew that the decor was best described as simple- the less things that could be knocked loose or moved out of place by the wind, the better. Lined on the outside walls of the building, however, were generally floor to ceiling windows, designed to slit outwards for easy leaving and entering. She could see all the windows open, if only to keep the whole room of crowded dancers from getting too warm. The normal lights were darkened, making way for the colored strobes blinking in time to the beat.

As a matter of fact, the only area with normal lighting was a bar set up in the back of the main room.

"Who's this party for?" Q'ara asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

Avaria searched the room before pointing out a dancing girl with a small crowd around her. "Ilisi,"(*) she answered. "It's a 'coming of age' party of sorts for her."

Watching the way she was grinding against a couple of the guys that drew exceptionally close, Q'ara raised her brow. "And there has to be a party for that? I'm sure that simply taking her to any club and getting a few drinks in her could do the same thing."

Avaria laughed. "No, there's a special party for this particular occasion." She took Q'ara's arm and led her further into the room as she continued to explain. "Notice how I don't really mention having a last name?" Q'ara looked at her friend in confusion and thought, prompting Avaria to continue. "When I had my 'coming of age' party, that's essentially all it was: dropping my last name."

"Why do that?" Q'ara asked as they stopped in front of the bar.

Avaria ordered drinks for the two of them before answering. "Because at the certain age when we start striking out on our own and making a living and whatnot, we're all flying around too much to be looked after constantly by our parents. Dropping the family surname is a way of saying we're grown up now, and ready to account for our own actions."

"So... what happens should you get married?"

"We generally pick up whatever surname the groom once had, if only to give future children a tie to those to be held accountable for their actions." As Q'ara made a face at the notion, Avaria nodded. "I know, kind of twisted rules, but I didn't make them. It's the same from past worlds to this one: ruled absolutely by men."

"I'll drink to that," Q'ara stated, picking up the red colored fizzing drink set in front of them. There was only a small amount of it, a shot glass' worth, so she shrugged and downed it in one swallow, remarking the after-taste of apples. "So, how do you know this Ilisi?"

Avaria sipped her drink slowly, looking out across the dance floor. "Mere chance, actually. My chute had a tear, and she loaned me a spare one of hers. The friendship budded from there, I'd say."

"Really?" Q'ara asked, motioning for another drink.

"Well, there's that, and the fact that we're a close knit community. No one really travels around as much as we do, so we're the only ones that can relate."

"Hm," Q'ara thought aloud, downing the second drink and motioning for a third soon after. It was drunk quickly, the empty glass clunked onto the surface of the bar as she huffed a dry exhale. How was she so thirsty all of a sudden?

Avaria giggled, seeing her friend's plight. "I can tell you've never had one of these before. Want mine?"

Q'ara grabbed the drink from Avaria, downing it as soon as it touched her fingers. Her tongue lolled, and she suddenly had to work to gather saliva in her mouth. "Wha'd'a giff me?" she rasped.

"Dry Mouth," Avaria answered too sweetly for her own good. As Q'ara glared, the air elemental laughed. "It's true, that's what the drink's called. If you drink it too fast, like you've been doing, it gives you a dry mouth." Leaning in conspiratorially, she added, "Also, drinking it too fast makes being drunk hit you that much harder."

"Ah gll'eht," Q'ara groaned aloud, her tongue still lolled.

"Hey, you said that if I get you drunk enough I could see your piercings. Curious minds want to know such things!"

"Gimme a no'mal dll-ink, Affallia!"

Stifling most of her giggles back with a covered hand, she did as her friend asked. _Oh, this'll be a night to remember, indeed!_

o0o0o

A few hours of drink, dance, and song (not to mention Q'ara's tongue restoring itself to normal) found both friends stumbling their way to a back room, wanting to wait out the warm buzz of alcohol before putting themselves through the rigors of flying. Both learned from experience what flying while drunk did to Q'ara's stomach, and neither wanted a repeat performance. They stumbled into a bedroom, arms draped over each other's shoulders, and giggling like crazy over absolutely nothing. "Okaaaahhy, tthhere's a bed... gotta get to it," Q'ara prompted, pointing the way forward, as if it would spur their feet into going in the right direction.

"My sshhoesss don' wanna work," Avaria giggled, looking down at them.

"Tthhey hhave to, now march!" Q'ara said, before jabbing her finger forward once more. "Hyah!"

Both girls laughed at this, stumbling forward together and falling over the mattress with near identical squeals. It was a narrow enough bed for them to let their heads fall over the other side, looking out the windows with an upside-down perspective. Avaria panted a couple of times before sticking her legs straight up in the air, reaching for the zippers of her boots by only stretching out her arms. "Uhn, uhn... UH-HUH-HUH-HUHN!" she grunted in the process, making Q'ara laugh.

"Tthhey won' commoff tthhat way," Q'ara slurred.

"Help mee-ee-ee," Avaria requested, giggling at the same time, as she let her legs fall against Q'ara. "Tthhey don' wanna work, an' I wanna walk!"

Q'ara groaned, flopping her arms on top of her friend's legs, not making any move to help. Her mind had to stop soaking up the alcohol first. If what Avaria told her about the four Dry Mouths she gulped down was true, however, that may take a while. As her mind grew adjusted to the upside-down view, along with gaining a strange dull ache that she couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of, she remained in companionable silence with her best friend.

"Q'ara," Avaria said, scooting bodily closer and hugging her friend, she said, "'m glad you're here."

"'m glad hyou invitehd' me," she replied as the pounding in her head steadily increased. _Could be blood flow... oh right, Q'ara. Gotta keep a level head, as 'they' say... _She lifted her head up, looking towards the other side, wondering if she could will her body to automatically slide in that direction. It also brought her into close proximity of Avaria's wide and shiny eyed gaze, making her blink a few times. Before her brain could catch up with what this could possibly mean, Avaria's lips were on hers.

They ghosted over Q'ara's before becoming silk and heat, gentle lip smacking noises filling the room as Avaria's arms slid under Q'ara's neck-

Avaria was suddenly pushed away, both realizing the implications of their actions. "Ffffuhhck," she swore as she fell back, not expecting this to happen.

"'varia," Q'ara half asked, half protested.

"Q'ara, 'm sso ssorry..."

"'varia, what... the majjic..." Swallowing hard, Q'ara asked, "Hyou like girls? Tthat's why hyou got me drunk?"

"No, no," Avaria protested. "Well, I do like girls, but I didn' ghet you drunk to do that... I like Ilissi, or I did, once. Sshe didn' like me back, but I still wan'ed her for so long, an'... 'm sso ssorry, Q'ara."

"Why not jjust invite hher to your own party, do tthis to her instead?" Q'ara snapped. She couldn't believe it, Avaria kissed her! Kissed her! On the mouth!

"Can' tthrow one iff you're tthrown out," Avaria muttered, admitting the truth. She continued on, talking about how this revelation brought shame to her family once they found out, but Q'ara was lost in her own thoughts, feeling absolutely livid. She knew for a fact that Avaria knew where her sexual preferences lay, and knew that they were friends, close as sisters sure, but...

Did she give Avaria the wrong idea by assuming that closeness?

Was their friendship a lie? A mere infatuation that Avaria settled herself into, if only to be close to Q'ara and not freak her out?

"No," Q'ara interrupted, scrambling to her feet. "'m staying over here," she insisted, moving over to the windows, "an' hyou're staying over there."

"Q'ara, I said I'm ssorry," Avaria insisted, softly crying. "I didn' mean for this to hhappen..."

"We're gonna sober up," Q'ara continued, not acknowledging her friend spoke. "After that, hyou're gonna take me home, an' we're gonna forget all tthis."

"... are we still friends?" Avaria asked in a small voice.

Shaking her head, Q'ara replied, "I need to tthink."

"You need to think?" Avaria snapped, suddenly angry. "I just embarrassed myself in front of my best friend in the worst way imaginable, and you need to think?"

Swallowing hard, Q'ara turned away, setting her hands against the glass. How the hell were these windows opened? She needed to breathe, to process what just happened...

Though her drunken stupor couldn't process the floating man outside of the windows. He stretched his hand out towards them, clenching it into a fist... as the glass planes were forced open, groaning against the metal as they did so. Air rushed in, blowing her hair sharply back. Her feet suddenly slid out from under her, the only thing saving her was the quick action of Avaria. Q'ara's hands scrambled for purchase against the glass as Avaria's arms wrapped around Q'ara's waist.

The metal manipulator looked down, and, swallowing back the scream that bubbled up, immediately wished she didn't... that was a hell of a long way to fall...

"T'komm aame, eenstaa!"(1) the man shouted at them, jerking harder on his invisible thread (it had to be; how else did make Q'ara suddenly respond to it like this?). The only thing saving them from plummeting over the side was a burst of wind Avaria conjured, correcting their lost balance.

The man clicked his tongue at them, floating closer. "G'aarl ras'ti, t'na luus't ekssis?(2) T'komm aame-"

The air supporting the two girls divided, the brunt of it shoving quickly towards the floating man, sending him spiraling out of view. Both girls collapsed back inside of the room, panting from the effort and whimpering out of fear from the sudden turn of events. Avaria stumbled to her feet first, slamming the windows shut with a hard burst of air, it suddenly being cut off by the action.

"We gotta move, now," she insisted, tugging Q'ara to her feet and into the hallway.

"Wha' the black magic was that?" Q'ara whispered, looking behind her, half expecting the strange man to come zooming back.

"I don't intend to stick around long enough to find out."

* * *

(*) Pronounced "ill-IH-see"

(1) Come to me, now!

(2) Girl (of metal), don't you want to live? Come to me-


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Yay! Special weekend means special surprise for you, my readers: two chapters here, two chapters in The Choices We Make, and two one shot ficlets (the last two which were finished in the last second, yay me!). Not much to say about this chapter, save for things are really going to kick off right about here... so, let's get to it!_

_Dragon Age/Bioware... iz blowin' on yo' HOT POCKETS! *huff huff*_

* * *

Q'ara let herself be led back down the hallway, stopping just short of the main room. When propped up against the wall, she then chose that opportunity to slide down to the floor. It took too much effort to focus on standing while trying to figure out what just happened at the same time.

He was floating in the air, so that had to make him an air elemental... right? However, air elementals couldn't really open the windows like that, especially from the outside. She had seen the earlier plans for these on her father's desk, and they were to be opened from the inside by the turn of a lever. Otherwise, there wasn't really that much give from inside without risking serious injury, and not enough of a hold from the outside for the air to force its way in. Someone would have to be able to focus on the metal gears themselves and move them that way. It was a popular misconception that all metal manipulators could do that, but such wasn't the case. The majority of the metal manipulators could only tell you about the metal being worked with- the properties, where it came from, how the specific ores could be used, etc. There were whispered inklings of there being some that could manipulate the metal with their minds alone, but that had to be crazy talk...

Right?

"Q'ara, hold your arm out," Avaria ordered, coming back to her, one of the bartenders in tow. Her head lolled more in his direction, causing her to spot some kind of gun-syringe in his hand. The vial angled out at the top of it was either empty, or had clear liquid in it.

"What's'at?" she asked.

"Don't ask, just give us your arm."

"'Kay, I guess..." Her right arm flopped a ways forward on her lap, as much invitation as she could extend.

"Wrong arm, Q'ara," Avaria gently reprimanded, taking Q'ara's left before rolling up the sleeve of her jacket. The veins on the underside of her wrist were exposed, harshly tapped on with a pair of fingers, then quickly stabbed with the sharpest needle Q'ara had ever felt in her life.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, trying to jerk her hand away from the pain, before the contents of said vial were shot into her veins. "Warn me next time..." she sullenly muttered as the contraption was put away, her wrist being rubbed briskly by Avaria.

"No time to explain it entirely," Avaria replied.

"Not to mention it's kind of illegal, so the less you know, the better," the bartender warned.

"Duly noted... thank you," Avaria said, nodding quickly as he departed.

"... Illegal?" Q'ara managed to ask, before she found out why. A rush of something akin to adrenaline raced up her arm, warmed its way into her chest, and then shot through the rest of her body. The effects it had on her head were astounding, as it suddenly cleared from the alcohol induced fog. She found herself blinking rapidly with the sensation. "Whoa..."

"Believe it or not, that's not the illegal part," Avaria stated, examining Q'ara's face for any profound effect that wasn't the norm. "How are you feeling?"

"If I told you that it feels like I have vertigo, would that be a bad sign?" Q'ara asked.

"No, it wouldn't be," Avaria replied.

"Avaria, what did you give me? Really?"

"There's no technical name for it, because it's not out on the market yet. And even then, it wouldn't take this fast to work. I lovingly refer to it as a 'pick-me-up'." Straightening her back, satisfied that Q'ara was taking well to the drug in her system, she added, "It won't stop the effects of being drunk entirely, just postpone it long enough to get some serious work done."

Sitting there in shock, literally being able to feel whatever it was in her veins moving through her system, Q'ara still had to work at finding what to say first. "I'm... not going to grow any strange appendages in places I shouldn't, right?"

"Do you plan on drinking as much as we just did in the next day or so?"

"No, not really."

"Then you should be fine."

"This isn't really reassuring," Q'ara said, now able to think past the abnormal sensations she was feeling.

"Well, what is then?" Avaria snapped, standing up to pace back and forth in front of Q'ara. "The fact that some guy we, or at least _I_, have never seen before just comes floating up to the top of a pretty tall building- without the use of any flotation device, or a chute, or even propping himself up with air, mind you- before proceeding to open up gear-operated and _very heavy_ windows with nothing but a motion of his hand, and to top all this off, starts trying to pull you out of said windows? Not to mention that he has no real grasp of any sort of language, which in my personal opinion is more than a little creepy by itself..." Rounding on Q'ara once more, she asked, "Is that more reassuring than the fact that we just used a borderline illegal substance to help clear our minds temporarily?"

After letting a few moments of surprised silence pass, Q'ara stated, "I need to get home." Adding all of those factors together in her head was enough to send her into wanting to get onto the ground, in case something like that started happening again. To be pulled out of the windows and simply _dropped_... or worse, taken... Neither option sat well with her.

Avaria gently bit her bottom lip before nodding. "Alright, but we'll have to hurry before-"

A large crash and chorus of surprised shouts drew both girls' attention to the party, where Avaria's fears came true: the weird talking guy came back, and he apparently brought friends. The crash came from overturned lights, done to both gain attention and create a general disturbance in the crowd. As the group of newcomers started actively searching the crowd, shouting in their strange language, Avaria grabbed Q'ara and hauled her to her feet, running back in the direction they just came from.

Their quick departure didn't go unnoticed, however, as Q'ara noted after looking behind them. One of the strobe lights- complete with stand- was shooting over the crowd of ducking people and hurtling straight towards them. Both girls ducked into the room as it hit against the doorway, shards of glass and electrical sparks flying overhead as it broke.

"Hurry!" Avaria gasped, pulling them both along. The lever operating the windows was grasped and tugged, met with resistance as the gears protested the normal action after the unnatural actions from earlier. After a few frantic moments, the windows creaked open-

"Daar ta'ae ees!"(1) a man bellowed from the doorway.

Q'ara's and Avaria's heads jerked up towards the intrusion, in time to see the bed they were hiding behind starting to float into the air, swinging back as it rose. "Back up!" Avaria shouted to Q'ara, scooting back towards the open panes of glass. Q'ara did, but not fast enough as the hard frame slammed into her, making her lose her balance and fall outside of the open windows.

If she thought the view from high up while balanced on the edge was scary, the knowledge of her plummeting with nothing to save her trumped it. The first few stories robbed her of any breath to scream with, which was shortly rectified the longer she fell. She alternated between closing her eyes with fear and opening them back up since falling in complete oblivion was worse. The lights of the city below her were getting brighter and brighter...

A force slammed into her back, wrapping around her waist and instantly slowing their descent. The air from the action rushed up over her, whipping her long hair into her face. Avaria panted from the exertion she wasted fighting off the people as long as she did before the rest of the air elementals in the party took over in the defense, paired with racing to catch Q'ara before it was too late.

Both flew off, back towards the night sky but angling sharply away from the building, until Avaria cursed under her breath. "You doing okay?" she shouted over the wind rushing past them.

"No!" Q'ara shouted back.

"Then don't hate me for this!" Avaria replied, starting to drop further to the street level, angling them to interweave through the many skyscraper buildings of Steel Town. She glanced back once more, getting a total count of pursuers before concentrating on navigating through the mess of buildings that cut off more wind flow than supplying it. They weaved and bobbed, abruptly changing direction at different moments, and doubling back some other times. Just when Q'ara got dizzy from it, convinced that even she wouldn't know her way around, Avaria dropped them both in through an open window of an abandoned building. They both scrambled out of the way from the outside view, panting hard as they flattened themselves against a wall.

"You think that lost them?" Q'ara whispered.

"I'm not sure," Avaria answered. There were only five to begin with, but they couldn't have been air elementals to do what they did; she was sure of it now. Who knows if the pair really lost their pursuers at all...

"What do they want?"

Both fell silent, unable to answer the whispered question. It was clear that either one- or both- of the women were wanted by them for some reason, since both weren't far enough away from each other, or separated long enough to make any certain assumptions.

"I've never seen anything like them before," Avaria murmured, turning to Q'ara. "They can't be air manipulators... or any other kind for that matter."

"Then what are they?"

"I don't know, 'everything else' manipulators?" Scoffing at her own words, she muttered, "Is there even such a thing?"

Q'ara turned her head towards the window, daring herself to peer out as slightly as she could. "I don't think anyone's coming."

"Then we gotta move," Avaria insisted, starting to pull Q'ara forward again.

Q'ara jerked her arm back, pulling her friend to a stop. "We can't keep running," she protested.

"Would you rather keep running, or sit and simply wait for them to find us?" Avaria challenged. "You saw them, Q'ara. The first one alone was lifting about 73 kilos to an incredible height and pulling at you like it was nothing. Given that display alone, I'd rather not be a sitting target for that to find me."

Before Q'ara could reply, the steel wall they previously hid behind groaned loudly, denting out towards the street. Both girls watched as it pulled further out before splitting open into a makeshift doorway. The figure of a man floating in the air was all they managed to see before the urge to flee became greater than the will to stay and face the enemy head on.

Avaria raced Q'ara to the opposite side of the building, heading straight for a windowless opening to jump through. Q'ara already had a hold of her friend, knowing what would happen next. As they jumped out, they caught sight of how dire the situation was, as identically dressed men stood in a small crowd on the street, looking up as if they were expecting their arrival.

An icy fear of dread filled Q'ara. _There's no way we can get out of this,_ she thought to herself.

Avaria, on the other hand, was having none of that. Bringing her focus to her arms, she motioned for something to be brought up to her shoulders before sharply pushing them out and to the ground. An air missile impacted into the ground before sharply spreading out and knocking over the crowd of people. As they were falling, Avaria outstretched her chute hand and focused on putting as much force behind it as possible. Since trying to lose them in the near chaotic layout of Steel City didn't work, what mattered now was getting them far away as fast as possible.

She cleared the line of buildings before the answer hit her. Instead of speaking her thoughts aloud, she doubled her focus, racing them through the air at incredibly fast speeds. Her energy began to waver, but she stubbornly forced it back. They had to get to the bay...

Q'ara put her feet into the rough landing this time, seeming to land by the larger sized aircrafts she had seen air manipulators use to transport huge items. As she stared at the line of them, Avaria released her, making a bee line to a lockbox. It was opened and a key fished out before she strode back to Q'ara. "Take this and go," Avaria insisted, pressing the metal rectangular key into her friend's hand.

"W-what?" Q'ara asked. "Take what?"

"Take my aircart and go," Avaria repeated, pointing to one that had her name artistically painted into the back, complete with a pink colored rabbit smiling as it flipped the world its middle finger.

It took a moment for the request to sink in. "You're not coming?" Q'ara asked.

"Listen-"

"No, Avaria, you have to come with me!"

"Q'ara-"

"I can't do this by myself, you know that! They're going to catch me if we split up-" Q'ara was interrupted by Avaria slapping her across the face. After a pause, she murmured, "... ow..."

"You'll be just fine without me," Avaria insisted. "I can create a distraction and easily get myself the hell out of there if they catch up, and now I'm doing the same for you. And besides, if they're after you, I can go and get help; if it's me they want, you have a way to get help fast."

"I don't know how to drive one of these things," Q'ara still protested.

"The key goes in the slot to turn it on, and twisting the large dial all the way to the side means 'I wanna go really fast'. The rest of it involves steering. Now move!"

Q'ara stumbled back slightly after being pushed by Avaria, but seeing her square off with approaching figures in the distance spurred her into moving. There was a door for passengers already open, which was closed and locked behind her. She was in the cargo area in the back, as evidenced by the stack of assorted boxes nestled up against what appeared to be a flexible net. Now nervous, she quickly strode to the lone navigator's seat, strapping herself in before searching for the slot briefly described. There was only one, right above the steering column. The rectangle was jammed in, releasing the steering bars into gently drifting towards her as the machine whirred to life. "Okay, that was easy," she murmured, looking at the expansive board of buttons and blinking lights...

And counting a total of six large dials.

"Damn it to the black magic, I'm so screwed," she cursed aloud. She looked back to the entry door, then back to the control board, where she started pushing them all down.

* * *

(1) There you(they) are!


	4. Chapter 4

Avaria squared off with the approaching figures, gathering together what scraps of energy she had left for the final defensive attack she could be able to muster, when the extent of Q'ara's lack of knowledge of how to operate a simple aircraft was shown. The machine turned on easily enough, which was soon followed by the expanse of blinking, traveling lights used only for emergencies or traveling through darkened places, the use-only-for-dire-emergency-or-to-merely-piss-someone-off siren, and her music player. Heavy alternative guitar music blared from the obnoxiously large speakers she had installed on the outer sides of her aircart, jacking up her adrenaline without fail.

Just like her to go down in a blaze of glory with her "I'm a total badass" music serving as the background soundtrack.

As the music started a crescendo and the engines whirled into a fast motion, whipping loose strands of her updo into her face, she used the extra burst of wind for her defense. Her hands stretched up above her head, along with a lifted gaze, as she slowly released the breath of air she was holding. The wind started to cyclone around her, starting small and expanding in force and speed. It lifted her from the ground, inch by inch, as the wind swelled to a greater force, daring to go past the level of control she set for herself. Slowly, so very slowly, she curled herself up into a ball, the cyclone of wind now becoming a circular shield of gale winds.

Once the timing was perfect, she suddenly pushed it out, sharply straightening her limbs in a representation of the wind bubble breaking around it. Being the epicenter of a wind explosion such as this came with a cost, however, as it felt like Avaria's limbs were going to be ripped from her. But she had to hold on... Q'ara's life was counting on it.

The explosion died, a sheer drain of energy sapping the strength of the attack rapidly. She fell to the ground, whimpering from the harsh impact. Lacking the will to move as she did, she could only move her eyes to see what she had done, which was what appeared to be a smattering of broken, lifeless bodies falling from the sky. They had, after all, done the equivalent of flying head-first into a wall that suddenly shot towards them.

What else was missing, though, was her music; that could only mean that Q'ara made it out.

A figure that somehow evaded the worst of her attack stepped into Avaria's view, blood pouring from his nose as the areas under his eyes started to blacken from a bruise. "Ch'ruul Orolith!"(1) he called back over his shoulder, seeing Avaria blink at him.

She saw the first man keep looking over his shoulder, awaiting for the arrival of this 'Ch'ruul Orolith'. He then stepped aside, bowing low, as a hooded figure stepped into view. It was dark under the fabric, but she could tell he just bled a presence to take pause over from his very pores. A small breeze tickled over her fingers; she used it in a last act of defiance, pushing it up into the face of the newcomer. It did nothing more than push the hood off of his face, granting her a good view of him.

He was bald, she had gathered from her overall first impression, catching the braided gathering of hair at the base of his skull at the second overall sweep of her eyes. His mouth seemed turned down in a permanent scowl, with the jagged, severely disfiguring scar running down the left side of his face helping that along. Add the beginnings of a broken nose from Avaria herself, and she was looking up at one pissed off looking guy whose hairdresser took too much off the top.

'Ch'ruul Orolith' knelt down close to her, tracing a line of her cheek with a gentle finger. "G'aarl uss," he softly wondered aloud. "T'luus't atssis h'aar aa'raelis pr'uwae reh'sso?"(2)

_Okay, this lack of a grasp of normal talking is starting to get on my nerves._ She gathered enough spit into her mouth, and promptly introduced it to his forehead in answer.

Orolith sneered at her, wiping his skin clean as he rose. So much more trouble for one meager person. This one below him, though, was strong... one worth savoring. Meeting the gaze of one of his troops still standing, he nodded his head to the prone girl, turning away as he replaced the hood on his head. The power- and this metal manipulator he so wanted- would soon be his. He just needed the right leverage.

Avaria, in the meantime, snarled her defiance at the first strange-talker as he came back, only just bracing herself for the foot aimed at her temple. She did what she wanted; nothing mattered now, save for Q'ara. Her friend would come back, she knew it.

o0o0o

As mentally prepared as Q'ara was for a sharp forward thrust of the engines, she didn't expect the sheer amount of noise that suddenly came from the siren and embedded music files kicking in at the same time. Nor was she prepared to suddenly shoot straight up into the air instead of forward. Forge's flames, how did Avaria really expect her to fly one of these damn things with such sparse instructions? After figuring out that trying to steer herself into going the right way only resulted in the craft spinning in circles while still rapidly ascending, then came the quest to find which dial would steer her forward...

"**Air pressure. System. Stabilizing,**" a mechanic voice cut in, before restoring the music and siren back to its previous volume. The air vents hissed, then hummed, as the system kicked into gear, preventing her ears from popping just in time.

"How the in the flames high am I rising?" she asked aloud, nervously eyeing the dials. They kicked on damn near simultaneously, and since they weren't labeled at all, one turn of the wrong one could simply stop the engines... One plummet to her death in a day was more than enough, thank you.

The one of the furthest left was twisted first. She held her breath, only to release it as the siren turned off. The one next to it then had to be the music, which she could live with for now-

Loud bangs against the metal top of the ship made her cry out sharply with surprise. A quick look out of the front windows showed brief glimpses of the meteor belt she was passing... which meant she was now going orbital. As this was realized, the aircart started losing its rising force, and simply began to float.

"I'm so very screwed..."

"**Aircart. Entering. Zero gravity. Zone.**"

"Tell me something I don't know... like how to go forward, for example..."

"**Air pressure. System. Shutting down.**"

"No, no you're not!" Q'ara shouted to the mechanical voice overhead.

"**Synthetic. Air pressure. System. Initiating.**" A whirring noise from her left showed a panel sliding out, revealing an oxygen mask and tank, the former of which was quickly donned over her mouth and nose. "**Synthetic. Air pressure. System. Stabilizing.**"

"Great... I won't die. Now wha' do I do?"

"**Alternative. Power. Initiating. Wind motors. Shutting down. Fuel engines. Initiating. Configuring. Ascent rate.**"

Right, she was still rising. What did this dial do...?

"**Ascent rate. One-hundred. Fifty-four- recalculating. Ninety-nine- recalculating.**" Once Q'ara realized this was the dial Avaria was referring to, it was turned all the way back up. "**Ascent rate. One-hundred. Sixty-five. Kilometers. Per hour. Maximum rate. Acceleration rate. Zero. Kilometers. Per hour. Minimum rate.**"

"H'okay... thiss dial..." Q'ara murmured aloud, reaching for the one on the end. Pausing mid-reach, she just assessed what happened, feeling as if it was in slow motion. Her speech just slurred... meaning the drug must have been wearing off.

The dial was quickly turned to the right as Q'ara's case of the drunk-giggles came back. If only Avaria could see her now, navigating this like a pro!

"**Recalculating. Ascent rate. Zero. Kilometers. Per hour. Minimum rate.**"

"Tthhankies for tthhat, 'Lola'," Q'ara slurred, giggling louder.

"**Acceleration rate. Sixty-five. Kilometers. Per hour. Maximum rate.**"

"Yer all fired... YER FIRED!" Q'ara shouted, laughing aloud. Who was she kidding, being scared out of her mind like she was before? Set her in front of a new toy, intoxicate her out of her mind, and she'd have a great time! As she swayed the steering back and forth, the mechanical voice above her head continued to speak.

"**System. Status check. Initiating. Emergency siren. Peak condition.**"

"Yer fired, Lola, 'm ssorry!"

"**Emergency chutes. Four. Out of. Four. Total count.**"

"Yer sstill fired, Lola."

"**Synthetic. Air pressure. System. Calculating. Five tanks. Containing. Five hours. Constant. Air flow. One tank. Containing. Four point nine-nine. Hours. Constant. Air flow.**"

"Ya don' rheally take rejjecsshhun well, do ya?"

"**Alternative. Fuel tanks. Calculating. Main tank. Containing. Five percent fuel. Secondary tank. Containing. Twenty-six point two. Percent fuel.**"

"... damn... to the..." Q'ara slumped forward as much as her restraining belts would allow her, the alcohol in her system finally causing her to black out.

"**Alternative. Fuel engines. Peak condition. Estimated travel time. Two hours. And. Fifty-six. Minutes. System. Status check. Complete.**"

o0o0o

All was quiet in the Korcari Wilds, somewhere south of Ostagar. One of the most unthinkable things that could possibly happen has happened- a Blight has started a ravaging trail across the land. What was worse was the fact that there were only two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden to combat said Blight.

Flemeth muttered quietly to herself as older women were wont to do, stirring the pot she kept at her outdoor fire pit. She had just sent Morrigan and the two Wardens on their way hours ago, and already it was quieter in the forests... just that little bit larger without someone to occupy the space with.

Thoughtfully, she considered the two Wardens. Alistair, an ex-Templar trainee and the senior most Grey Warden hadn't taken the news of the betrayal or the massacre well. It was a hard lesson to learn, but one that simply had to be taught: absolute power corrupts absolutely. He seemed a bit slow on the uptake, but a brilliant lad in his own way. A strategist he wasn't, but it was well made up for in his skills of a warrior.

The second Warden, the newest addition apparently, had more of the cutting edge that Alistair sorely lacked, but also less of the humane social graces one needed to move flawlessly through a crowd. She supposed the fact that Lyra Mahariel was Dalish had something to do with that. The young girl had a slight something _off_ about her, and Flemeth knew this the moment she laid eyes on the girl. Mistrustful of humans as Lyra was, these next coming months were going to be interesting for the small group.

It may even be more interesting than it would be for Flemeth herself, stopping just shy of calling to Morrigan for a bundle of elfroots. Oh, but she was getting old, and her joints were no more aware of the fact than she.

A chance look up to the sky as she rose proved to find an interesting sight... what looked to be a ball of light- and a gods awful noise she could hear from where she was standing- was falling further and further from the sky, disappearing into the distant tree line within a minute's passing.

_And here,_ she sagely thought to herself, _is the newest arrival of their party._

* * *

(1) Master Orolith!

(2) Girl (of air), why do you help her escape?

* * *

_AN: Alright, we made it to Thedas, woot woot! And I have a few updates for you:_

_1.) Sadly, for me, this'll be the last time for a long while that I'll get to play around with this wonderful language o' mine, but that doesn't mean I'm particularly sad about it. I'm sure I'll still be messing around with it on my own time. xD_

_2.) I has a deviantart picture of what I envision Q'ara's arm to look like, yay! http:/ frizzle- me- timbers. deviantart. com/ art/ Cyborg- Drawing- 304404233 And in case you're wondering, yes, that's my account. xD Very humble beginnings!_

_3.) http:/ www. youtube. com/ watch? v=wpjm ATbb0h8 &feature= plcp Simply add one to the end._


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Yay, chapter 5! So many people that I want to thank for inspiring me, helping me out, reading my works (even when they were absolutely awful) and reviewing/favoriting/subscribing! Since I have very little time, I'm just going to thank you all with virtual hugs, cookies, and hot Kool-aid. xD_

_And, I also come with news! I'm in a three-way (it's not gay if it's a three-way!) collab with Eve Hawke and Jaden Anderson for a story called 'A Twist of Fate'. It's not your ordinary telling of Dragon Age, considering that our beloved Alistair is not a Grey Warden to begin with! ... Exciting, right? The story can be found in my favorite stories section, so be sure to clicky!_

_And and, once you're done there, you can also check out Eve's and Jaden's works, for they're super inspiring... and distracting. *playful glares*_

_And and and, it was brought to my attention in the previous chapter that the usual/generic Dalish female elf's name is "Lyna", not Lyra. After consulting with the person (who's also using the same name for her own story, which was why she spotted it), and asking very nicely (NOT with the persuasion sledgehammer, mind you... :D ) she let me use the name. Just to clear any confusion, when I say Lyra, I refer to Dalish elf, not luckiest Cousland I personally know from this site._

_And and and and... I like Dragon Age. We all do too. So we're all aware that Bioware owns it all and lets us bask in their glory in the only way we know how... right? Right. Onna widda show! _

* * *

Someone was talking, saying something repeatedly, and Q'ara was starting to get annoyed.

She blearily opened her eyes, finding herself hanging forward by the seatbelts as the front of the ship was diagonally inserted into the ground. Parts of the windshield were cracked, long lines traveling outwards towards the opposite edges. All she could see in front of the ship was darkened ground. In further evidence of what had happened while she was passed out, the mechanical voice was chanting overhead:

**"Sending. Distress signal. To. Nearby. Signal towers. ... Sending. Distress signal-"**

"Ungh, shut up," Q'ara mumbled, before removing the oxygen mask. The immediate removal brought to mind that she may be in a toxic environment, but after nothing overly drastic happened, she figured she should be safe. She looked around on the binding straps, finding and reaching for the release button, falling forward against the steering column once it was pushed. Under her weight, it clicked back into its stationary position, the key simultaneously ejecting. Forcing back gagging as it also dug into her stomach, since she didn't want to get in any worse trouble for crashing and puking in Avaria's aircart, she pushed herself upright, taking deep breaths. Fortunately, the key being ejected silenced the mechanic voice immediately, giving her sweet blessed silence to contradict her pounding headache.

Okay, she had obviously crashed somewhere... Was she still on Terra XII? She had to be, or at least somewhere close by way of sister planets. The other planets were well populated, save for a small amount residing on Terra XI, and considering how much fuel was in the tanks, it could have taken her far enough to be caught up in another planet's gravitational pull. Not knowing how different this world was from hers could provide some trouble with interacting with the natives...

_Unless they're absolute barbarians, I'm sure I won't have a problem._ Her mind made up, she pulled the key out of its slot, slung its cord around her neck, and set on a rather difficult journey to the door. Thankfully, the oxygen tank column was still extended, giving her a foot hold to use on her journey up. Hand over hand, and grasping anything that was within reach, she made her slow way up to the cart's exit. The door swung open with ease with gravity, sharply exposing her hangover to bright sunshine.

Q'ara grumbled aloud, covering her eyes with her bionic arm. The cool metal pressing up against her closed lids felt nice, so she kept it up there for a little while longer. However, there was a task at hand that had to be accomplished. Find help first; cure hangover later. If the transition from tilted ship to flat ground was any indication, however, she may be in a bit of trouble. It was a short drop, a few feet at the most, but her feet didn't get the memo to keep her upright once the impact travels up.

On her hands and knees in the mud, she made a noise of disgust, resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her coat. It would be an even bigger pain if it dried in the joints of her bionic arm. But there was a curious sensation alongside the mud: rivulets of water were trickling in little trails all around her. Looking around herself, head raising ever higher, her eyes widened as the implications of how much trouble she really was in hit her.

Not only was the aircart dented, but branches were clinging to the wind rotors on the sides. Q'ara could see a clear trail where the ship must have slid across the ground after crashing, along with some of the nearby trees being stripped of bark and smaller branches. Those that were thicker than the rest remained on the tree, but simply bent against the force of the landing. The nose of the aircart was tilted into an embedded river, blocking a majority of the flow and causing it to trickle over the edges.

How she remained passed out amidst all of that, she'd never know.

Shaky legged, Q'ara rose and made her slow way over to the actual stream, cleaning her hands and ruined stocking-covered legs as best as she could. Maybe it was from the knowledge of never having stepped out into actual wilderness before, but her skin... she just couldn't explain the sensation. Whatever it was, she felt ready to crawl out of it, it was that itchy and tight. Since a rounded metal surface held no traction, she had to settle with gently patting the areas she couldn't reach with her nails. After a couple gulps of the stomach settling water, she was on her way...

_Towards where, exactly?_ she asked herself.

"I don't know... but I'm bound to find a road somewhere."

_And if you're in the middle of a very large forest? What then?_

"No forest is too large." She hoped. "I'll either find the other side, or someone who hikes here soon enough."

_Or something very large that rather likes the taste of lost little girls._

"Shut up, self... stop trying to scare me..."

A twig snapping made her jump and jerk around towards the sound, finding nothing. "It's okay... I'm not scared," she reassured herself. "I have a weapon!" she announced aloud, hoping to discourage whatever- whoever- it was. She was most likely overreacting, she realized, as a honey-colored dog stepped out from behind a tree.

It whined as it looked at her with curiosity.

"Uhm... hi." Q'ara felt just as silly for her reaction as she did for what she was doing now. Looking around from where he came from, she didn't hear any voices or see any camps set up... if that was even what people did out here. While she looked around, the dog looked behind him, then back to her, nearly starting to march his front paws in place. Noticing this, she asked, "What? What's the matter?"

He looked behind himself again, whining insistently. A hushed _woof_ followed as he turned back.

Q'ara's brows furrowed. She had to be in the middle of one of those miraculous, one-in-a-lifetime rescue stories from man's best friend, because that dog was trying to tell her something. "Over there, huh," she murmured, wondering what she would find. The first cautious steps were taken around him, listening hard for any sounds of distress-

The dog scurried back around her, placing himself between her and where she was trying to go. The whines were replaced by a soft and short growl. "Ohhkay, evil puppy," she spoke aloud, freezing in place. "I'm not going to hurt them, I want to help them," she then explained.

His head reared back with a sound of doggy confusion, before darting forwards and head-butting her legs. "Hey!" she exclaimed, stopping herself just shy of falling backwards. With mild annoyance, she watched as the dog bounded around her, before turning back to her and looking over his shoulder like before. "Didn't you want me to go this way?" she asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

As he hurried back over to her, mouth opening, Q'ara wondered if the dog was 'missing a few fire blocks from his forge'. He certainly was acting odd- and also acting like he was going to pull her forward by her coat. She shouted a protest, jerking away before the canine teeth could sink into the fabric. Startled, the dog backed up sharply. "No one messes with the coat," she warned him, sharply shaking her head. "No one. Not even cute, yet not-so-smart lost puppy-dogs."

The dog dropped down to his haunches, hopping back up again with a bark, before falling still. A low, menacing growl froze her to the spot; an _answering_ mix of a hiss and a roar from behind her froze her to her bones. _...What in the black magic is that? ..._ Her eyes widened as she held her breath, wanting so very bad to look but knowing if she did she wouldn't like what she saw. Q'ara, instead, turned her eyes first. Seeing nothing but trees and forestry made her bold enough to turn her head, twisting her body to face...

Any coherent thought left her as she finally caught gaze of... whatever it was they were. Humanoid, but not human at all, with slimy, decayed skin and lipless faces, revealing permanent fanged smiles, they stood in a small group of shuffling forms behind one wearing a rather grotesque horned helmet. White film covered their eyes, yet they remained riveted to her. And the _smell..._ sickly and sweet, like rotten fruit but so much worse, and prompting a rise of bile in the back of her throat. A scared whimper escaped her mouth as the leader started to laugh- _laugh, by the black magic! _- and look her over.

It was at that point that she abandoned any hope of there being people in the direction of where those... things came from. Anything that resembled normalcy couldn't possibly lie that way. So, doing what she felt anyone else would do in her situation, she ran.

o0o0o

_By the Creators, this is getting uncomfortable._

Lyra resisted the urge to grumble under her breath once again as she caught the two shems she was traveling with shoot suspicious glares at each other. The blond haired male, Alistair, was her fellow Grey Warden; his also being a mage-hunter-in-training led to a lot of tension between him and the apostate mage, Morrigan, who had just recently been forced to join their party. She had forgotten how many times she prayed to Mythal to give her the patience needed to keep from knocking their heads together and start trying to talk sense into them. Then again, the male shem seemed a bit thick-skulled, while the female shem seemed too haughty to listen to anything other than her own voice.

They had cleared the forest a little ways back, finding a well-worn set of cart tracks to use. After looking to Morrigan, who rolled her eyes and simply pointed in a direction, Lyra had been leading them ever since. Silence and tension filled the air around them, nearly pressing in on her ears, and so thick she doubted the strongest blade could cut through it.

A couple barks certainly cracked the invisible outer edge, while a terrified scream shattered it completely.

Startled, she ran towards the sounds before she could stop to second guess herself, hearing footsteps racing behind her. The scene she came upon was one to certainly ponder over had she the time: a group of darkspawn were surrounding another shem woman, pinned underneath a hurlock and trying to scramble away. A golden colored Mabari danced away from the blades of a couple more, with the rest of the darkspawn group egging their comrades on... save for one. An alpha, who was in the process of swiveling its helmet-covered head around, searching for something. His eyes settled on her as Lyra slowed to a stop in the trail.

It also completely missed the flash of silver and light that the elf managed to catch from the pinned shem woman. It seemed that she brought a weapon out of hiding, and used it on the hurlock above her; sadly, it didn't do any fatal damage, only stabbing into one of its arms. It roared in protest, rearing up to deliver a killing strike to her.

"FOR THE GREY WARDENS!" Alistair shouted, charging past her with his shield and sword upraised. Lyra simply rolled her eyes at the display, drawing her bow and notching an arrow. Her first target was the hurlock attacking the shem, taken out by a shot through its vulnerable neck. The strange woman had started to scramble up and away, only to be taken back down by the alpha hurlock's shield to the back of her head. _Well, that figures,_ she thought to herself, releasing arrow after arrow to the darkspawn. With the small group effort, joined by the rather enthusiastic effort from the strange hound, the darkspawn were eliminated as Lyra's arrow supply drew down to the last handful.

Not that she had so much more beforehand. _This Morrigan said that Lothering was close, right?_ She surely hoped so, because if this happened again before she had a chance to craft more, the group would be one less a Dalish archers skills in these fights.

Alistair sheathed his sword, looking around him as if searching for something. "I believe that's the last of them," he stated to himself.

"Ah, so he does speak," Morrigan sniped. "Here I thought that we would have nothing but silence to listen to instead of sniveling."

Lyra watched as he slanted a glare to the mage. "Is my being upset so hard to understand?"

"No, but the fact you insist on doing so when your fallen comrades would rather not see this from you is."

The elf rolled her eyes. Just when she thought she was going to have silence, period. She kept the edge of her peripheral gaze on the fallen shem as the other two argued over semantics, the dog watching both of them with canine interest. Lyra could see blond hair falling from underneath the hood of the strange cloak the fallen shem was wearing, but little else about her looks. It was also a strange cloak to wear, one with metal shining on the shoulders. Yet, as she struggled to rise, propping her arms under herself, Lyra regarded her with shocked awareness. Keeping a wide gaze on the woman, she quickly drew an arrow and shot it down to the ground before the woman's face, pausing her mid-motion.

Alistair broke from the argument long enough to see this action. "Maker's breath, are you crazy?" he asked her. "We just saved her life, and now you're shooting her?"

"Turn her over," Lyra barked, drawing another arrow from the quiver.

Not moving, he breathed, "You must really be crazy."

"And you must really want this next arrow to be shot at your arse," Lyra replied, taking aim at the prone woman. Her eyes were meeting Lyra's, widening further at the arrow pointed at her. "Turn. Her. Over." As Alistair huffed and moved to do so, she interrupted his progress. "Use your foot."

The templar gave her an incredulous stare before straightening to properly do so. Dalish elves were as notorious with their arrows as they were with their temperance towards humans, or so he believed. Ignoring Morrigan's mocking scoff (because he wasn't deferring to Lyra's direction because of her swaying hips... _at all!_), he inched his foot under her stomach and rolled her over onto her back. Something glinted in the sunlight, catching his eye, and nearly making him curse and draw his blade as he backpedaled. "Maker's breath, your arm..."

Lyra narrowed her focus. It was just as she suspected: while the encased-with-metal arm was a strange sight, the blades protruding from the wrist drew her attention more. The shem's other hand inched over to the metal arm, prompting Lyra's fingers to tighten on the string... a shot into the shoulder could easily stop that progress.

However, that dog jumped in the way, facing Lyra head on and barking at the elf. A dog it was, but she wasn't going to just shoot confused animals at random.

"Isn't that the dog you saved at Ostagar?" Alistair asked.

"Not important," Lyra insisted. "What I do want to know is why the dog is blocking my shot."

The blond shem jerked her body up, craning her head in Lyra's direction. "Are you really going to shoot me?"

"Will you give me a reason to?"

"What are you doing?" Alistair asked, hands tightening on his blade as he caught the same thing Lyra did.

"I'm putting my blades away!" the blond protested. A soft _shunk_ punctuated her actions, and indeed making the blades disappear. "Forge's fires, you guys are a suspicious lot."

"Considering what we just killed," Morrigan finally stated, "I feel we're justifiable to be suspicious."

Lyra slanted a glance, to see the mage extinguish the ball of lightning that had formed in her hand, considering the shem before them no longer a threat. The elf relaxed as well, being distracted once more by the dog. It barked happily, bounding around in circles around her legs and further relaxing the mood.

Alistair commented on the sight, sheathing his sword and giving a last wide-eyed look to the stranger. "It seems... he's _chosen_ you."

"Wonderful. A mangy mutt to follow us about now," Morrigan muttered.

"He's not mangy," Alistair cooed, in a voice that made Lyra cringe from all the mental images it rose.

Lyra shook her head at the dog at he looked up at her expectantly. "He's coming, as long as he's as useful as they say."

With an insistent bark from the dog, the issue was settled, and he took a rather dutiful spot at her side. Creators help her, but why couldn't it be a guard cat? Okay, she would admit, the war dog was not without skill, but as a Dalish, she did have a rather large superstition about dogs. And on top of that, she had a rather confused shem woman in front of them. It was almost painfully obvious that she wasn't from Ferelden from her clothes alone, but all the piercings and the arm...

There was only one solution. "Alistair, do we have any rope?"

"Rope?" both blond shems echoed.

Lyra just stopped her hand from smacking her own forehead. "Yes, Alistair, rope," she answered him, as if explaining to a child. "We're going to have to take her with us, and the only way I'm going to trust anything good coming from that is if her hands are tied." Turning to the woman on the ground, she added, "Unless you'd rather we left you here? These darkspawn may be dead, but more are bound to come sooner or later."

The woman wasted no time in mulling her options over. "I'd rather be tied."

"Now that that's settled, Alistair? Any rope?" Lyra asked.

"Not needed," Morrigan spoke. With a wave of her hand, purple energy surrounded the woman's wrists, drawing them sharply together once they properly formed. "Now, may I suggest we continue on our way, having wasted enough time here as it is... Or shall I simply continue silently picturing traveling with a Templar toad?"

"Hey!" Alistair protested. "You can't do that!"

"Can't I?"

Lyra huffed. _Mythal help me, I'm traveling with children._ At least the other shem woman obeyed silently, rising to her feet with a quick glare from the elf. Lyra then led the bickering couple with the new shem on one side, and her new dog on the other. Every so often, her eyes would stray to the metal arm, comparing it to the normal one, before forcing her eyes back to the path.

Should she really have accepted this woman as easily as she did? What did she just get herself into?


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Again, so very sorry for the long wait, but many many MANY thanks to the new readers and subscribers for liking what you see! I personally vow to get more writing for my previous stories done and posted! And, little side note: I now allow anonymous reviews on my stoof, yay!_

_Another little side note: I've taken a bit of artistic liberty with the Dalish armor, because, c'mon... it's essentially the same skirt that human's use for their leather armor in the game. I have a feeling the Dalish wouldn't like that so much._

_Last little side note: Changed the cover art to show what I believe Q'ara's arm looks like! Isn't it bootiful?_

_Dragon Age is Bioware's brain child; they just allowed me to babysit._

* * *

Not for the first time that day, Q'ara believed that if this was one of the sister planets of Terra XII, it was most definitely missing a fire block from the forge. The armor-looking decorations on her jacket was one thing, but seeing a complete suit of armor on the really quiet blond guy nearly put her own to shame. Reminding herself that her own weren't there for the same purpose as his was the only reason why she wasn't jealous...

Of course, there was always the magic-user, eccentric as she looked even if there was that lone similarity of fashion. Not to mention, she was a magic-user... For her entire life, she was raised to believe that those who didn't manipulate the elements like they were able to were not feared at all, but more like cowards. After leaving Terra X, the next two planets were found nearly simultaneously. One had already substantiated hints of life, while the other was virtually undiscovered. Since only the magic manipulator's powers flourished on the first planet, they decided as a whole to just abandon ship right there.

If any of the magic manipulator's were anything like the woman who bound her, however, the cursing wouldn't have been out of their cowardice. In truth, it would have been far from it. _Note to self: keep the cursing of magic to a minimum._

The obvious leader of the trio who fought off those... things was a different story. Her body was covered with tattoos that seemed to have a same basic theme, and if Q'ara squinted her eyes just right, she could make out an assortment of trees. All of that nearly screamed 'earth manipulator' to her, but she had yet to see any loincloth-wearing, pointy eared manipulator. Q'ara had no idea what to stare at more: the tattoos or the clothing choice. It was referred to as 'armor' in part of a snide comment to keep the other two party members from arguing further, when the laced up front of the top half reminded her of lingerie gone primitive. Capped sleeves were sewn on as well, maybe to offset the effect, but it didn't help much.

"Something you find interesting, _shem_?" the elf asked, breaking Q'ara from her thoughts. Not waiting for a reply, she continued. "You've been staring for so long, I could have easily let you walk off a cliff. Which would be no hardship from me..."

"Lyra, be reasonable," the armored man suggested. "She nearly got killed many times today, most of the time from you."

Turning her head to him, the elf snapped back. "I have yet to see another _shem_ like this one, staring with such rapt attention, which makes me nervous. Can you blame me?"

Q'ara's eyes glued back to the road in front of her during this exchange, continuing to walk along as everyone fell in tense silence. It wasn't like it was Q'ara's fault for staring at the elf; she was just trying to figure out where she was! Granted, she could ask, but starting to push herself up from the ground had an arrow nearly shot at her face. Who knows what a question could get her?

All she knew was that she was hung-over from the previous night, tired from the walking, sore on the back of her head and her feet (since she was wearing shoes not made for walking long distances), hungry and thirsty, and absolutely afraid for her life! She stretched her hands against the bond in experiment, to have a small responding shock travel up her metal arm and into her torso. She bodily jerked, then huffed, relaxing her hands to their previous position. Her metal pinky and ring finger seemed to meet up with resistance, prompting a further examination.

The blades were fully retracted, but one side of the arm's encasing was all the way down while the other was slightly open. From this vantage point, she could see a bit of a branch sticking out, an ant crawling over the end and back inside. _Debris... damn it to the forges fires!_ "That's it!" Q'ara said aloud, stopping in her tracks. As the rest of the party did the same, turning to her, she carried on. "I nearly died while crash-landing here, I nearly died after I got here, human monster... thingies exist on this planet, as does magic- magic!" she shouted, holding her hands up in evidence. "We've been walking forever to who knows were, and my feet hurt, but I'm too afraid to say or ask anything because we're following a murderous lunatic!"

"Murderous lunatic... I rather like that," the elf mused aloud.

"Just tell me this one thing: which Terra planet am I on?" Q'ara pleaded, hoping someone was going to finally shed some light on what was going on.

Instead, the magic wielder arched a brow. "'Terra'?" she repeated.

Hope was slipping, but Q'ara refused to acknowledge it. "Uhm, yeah... Like, uh... example: I'm from Terra XII. And you're from...?"

The armored man answered, though he didn't sound too sure of it. "Thedas?"

"What's a Thedas?" she asked, trying not to panic.

"Look down," the elf answered. As Q'ara did, the elf continued. "See all that dirt down there, what you're currently standing on? That's a Thedas. And you can find this Thedas all over the place. It's amazing!"

Q'ara had to blink back tears as she looked up. She could understand being snarky, but that was just plain mean. "Does anything that I'm saying make sense to any of you?"

"No," the elf replied. "It does make me curious how hard that shield hit you, or if you're really this confusing all the time."

_Forge's flames, what if they really have no clue?_ Time could have passed long enough for the planet to decide as a whole to drop the Terra title, if she was even in one of the sister planets to begin with. It was a big universe out there, after all; what were the chances? Against her will, tears overflowed, and she plopped down to the ground, her feet aching as they were given a sudden break. She was hopelessly lost, with so much depending on her success, and it was all unfair!

"We have no time for this," the elf muttered, turning away and continuing on her way, her new dog trotting after her with a whine. After a contemplative look, the magic wielder followed. The armored man looked at the elf's retreating back, adjusted his pack and shield to rest more comfortably on him, before scooping Q'ara up in his arms. Her tears slowed with a surprised, hitched breath, and her new surroundings made her want to stop crying as soon as possible. While crying was a useful tool women had over men, it was better not to make it a first impression.

"I'm sorry about Lyra," he stated. "She doesn't really have a way with words... or people," he added, remembering the rather inventive revenge options that made his ears blush long after they left Flemeth's hut. Feeling the girl squirm a bit against his arm, he said, "I also apologize for the armor. It's effective, but not very comfortable."

Though her skin was being stabbed with needles where she was being touched, Q'ara played it off somewhat convincingly, in her mind. "It can't be any worse than walking eight hundred miles in these shoes."

Not finding the heart to correct her, he changed the subject. "I'm Alistair, by the way. In all the excitement, I forgot my manners."

"'m Q'ara," she sniffled.

"Very nice to meet you," Alistair finished, letting her get lost in her own thoughts. In turn, he once again fell into speculation over her odd appearance, and even stranger arm. He hadn't seen anything like it, and was perplexed over why it was there. Was something wrong with her original one? Not to mention all the piercings she had... Duncan had one, and she obviously had a lot more. Why would someone willingly do that to themselves?

_One question at a time, Alistair._ "Your arm... does it hurt?"

Q'ara looked up at him, her sullen look turning to confusion. "Oh, this one?" she asked, wiggling the metal elbow. After he nodded, she answered, "No. I don't feel anything with it."

"I mean, does it hurt you? It must, if it's... attached. How did it happen, anyway?"

"Oh..." After thinking to herself, she explained further. "Yes, it's attached to me, and I'd show you if my hands weren't bound. It hurt after the surgery was done-"

"Surgery?"

"Oh, the... attaching process? Anyways, once that was done and the pain was gone, all I had to do was get used to moving it, and making sure it worked like a regular arm would."

"Does it?"

"Normally, yes; right now?" Holding her hand up to his line of sight, she displayed her inability to bend her fingers before it plopped back down to her lap. "Not so much."

"What happened to it?"

She huffed against him, shrugging as her sullen mood returned. "I can see a stick in there, but with the luck I've been having, there's probably more lodged in there. I mean, I wasn't really keeping track, because I was too busy running from those monster thingies."

"Darkspawn," Alistair supplied. As she looked up in confusion again, he repeated, "Darkspawn, or 'those monster thingies'. Myself and Lyra fight them and keep the land- and its citizens- safe."

"You two protect Thedas from those... darkspawn things?"

"All of Thedas? Maker's breath, I hope not!" Shaking away that frightening image, he said, "No, just... just Ferelden, the section of Thedas we're in now." _Unless that bastard Loghain has something to do with that, too..._ After sending a quick prayer to prevent that from happening, he looked up to find Lyra standing at the edge of a clearing, her hands on her hips as she faced them.

"If the two of you are done visiting, I'd like you to start setting up camp while I ask our 'guest' a few questions," she directed to Alistair.

o0o0o

"Remember what I told you," Morrigan murmured, loud enough for Lyra to catch. As Alistair and the other _shem_ looked to each other, she bit her lower lip as her right leg jostled in impatient thought. As if she could forget what the Chasind mage just told her anytime soon. Not that long ago, she had every intention on just leaving the girl behind when she started crying. It seemed she was going to be the only capable person handling this Blight, leading a bunch of half-brained _shem_ on this impossible quest.

She was still stewing over the thought when Morrigan sidled up to her, matching her shortened stride. "A word, if I may?" the mage asked.

"What is it?"

"I feel you may be making a rushed decision here."

Lyra looked to Morrigan in exasperation. "Don't tell me you're starting to side with that-"

"I shall state my point, and you can take it any way you wish to."

The Dalish huffed. "Speak, then."

"She claims to come from this 'Terra XII' place, which made me pause. Those of us that are well versed in the old ways of magic, in Arcanum specifically, could easily tell you the meaning of such a word."

"Which is?" Lyra interrupted.

"'Land'," Morrigan replied. "Or 'earth'. If one was to generalize it further, and since she had referred to it briefly, 'planet', or 'world'."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you said you had a point."

"Does anything about our guest appear to be a common occurrence in Ferelden? You are a Dalish, I am from the Wilds, we can safely assume that the dim-witted Templar can represent everywhere else, and yet she's a foreign sight to all three of us. What if what she is suggesting is a possibility?"

Lyra had to think over that one. She crash-landed, whatever that meant, from this place which was named after what it basically is, and was obviously different from this one... "So, what you're saying is, this strange girl who just comes in from out of nowhere, with more steel on her body than clothing, and less sense in her head than Alistair, could not only be a stranger to Ferelden, but to Thedas itself?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying," Morrigan confirmed.

"Well, then where did she come from?"

"Where, indeed?..."

Giving an arch look to the mage, Lyra asked, "And you expect me to believe this?"

"Let me point something out to you," Morrigan stated. "Using nothing but my own energy, I can conjure lightning in clear daylight, and snow on the warmest Solace day. I can also shift my form to match those that naturally inhabit the Wilds. I have been raised to believe that very little in this world is impossible. Where this girl is truly from can only be a mystery if your stubborn pride will allow it to remain as such."

"So, am I supposed to befriend her now? In case she calls down some mystical kind of power-"

"You weren't listening to me at all," Morrigan interrupted, scowling at the elf as she did. "Nowhere did I say you were to be friends with this girl. If you want information from her, there are other ways of obtaining it. Threatening her with your arrows seemed to get her attention the quickest; perhaps you can start there."

Since she was then allowed to mull over what Morrigan said (which she wound up doing a lot of until she eventually found their campsite), Lyra did settle on how to get the needed info without having to waste precious ammo. Still, she had to try very hard not to make any snide comments over seeing Alistair carrying the _shem_ into the campsite. If she was going to be down a fighter when she needed one, a certain someone was going to be left behind, darkspawn or no.

"Set her down here," Lyra indicated to Alistair, motioning to a place to set her down. He did as he was asked, setting her feet down on the ground; as he straightened again, however, she was still in his arms. Lyra's eyes narrowed. Was the _shem_ so offended that she insisted on holding onto him? He seemed to be confused over the action, making him try again. Her feet were set down once more, and Lyra could see him trying to work his arm free, but nothing worked.

"I... think she's stuck on something," he stated aloud.

"Creators help me," Lyra muttered under her breath. As a rule, the Dalish never used metal armor if they couldn't help it, but how hard could it be to work snagged fabric free? She strode forward, intent on finding the problem area. This wouldn't have happened if he happened to be wearing leather armor at all, no. They'd also be fantastic at sneak attacks, wouldn't they? But no, he had to insist on metal, troublesome as it is. With his help, his arm was freed from under the _shem_'s legs, though there wasn't any tearing. "Mythal forgive me," Lyra cursed, "but if this is some kind of human prank-"

"Lyra?" Alistair interrupted.

"What?" she snapped, looking up to the Templar. His attention was drawn to the woman in his arms... or not, since her legs were freed, and his other arm was visibly raised into the air. Lyra's brows furrowed as she stepped back, taking in the whole view of the _shem_ looking for all the world like she was still being carried, the bottom hem of her strange cloak hanging to the ground in contradiction. Her bound hands weren't hanging onto anything, and she was looking just as confused as Alistair was, and as much as Lyra felt. Her hand slowly outstretched as she crept back, waving it back and forth under the _shem_ woman. She couldn't feel anything strange... what did this mean?

"I swear, I have no idea what's happening," the woman protested with wide eyes.

Lyra took a last look at the sight, before searching Morrigan out. The mage was paused in the middle of unpacking her things, watching the three of them. When Lyra had looked over, she met the elf's eyes before arching a brow of her own. Lyra looked back, catching her lower lip in her teeth as she thought back on Morrigan's words. _Where did this woman come from, indeed?_

"Morrigan, help me get her unstuck," she said aloud, keeping her eyes on the woman. "We have many things to discuss..."


End file.
